


Letters to John

by Bluebuell33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 90 percent chance this will end happy, Angst, Buckle up it could get bumpy, I leave the other 10 percent just in case I go crazy, Letters, M/M, No idea where this story is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is in love with John Watson, only he has never told him.John is marrying another and Sherlock refuses to be the best man,instead he leaves and writes letters to John that he never sends.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 93
Kudos: 81





	1. Best Man.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me like a brick during my meditation last night. I have no idea where this story will go or how many chapters there will be or how often I will add a chapter. It may be every day, it may be once a week. I am marking it as mature just because I have no idea what may come up as we go along. I hope you will join me on this journey, you should take comfort that I never leave a piece unfinished. I would love to thank my wonderful beta Lyri for looking this over so fast. Thank you!  
> I would also like to gift this first letter to Harmony for her birthday. Who better to enjoy this angsty piece then my follow angst queen. <3 Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear John,

Between the two of us, I would not be known as the romantic. I am unfamiliar with the social constructs that one would seem to need to be part of such a relationship. I have never felt this way about anyone but you; I can tell you that much is true. 

There was a boy in school that I once fancied myself enamored with, but now that I look back I'm not sure that I would describe what I felt as love.

Mycroft is always saying, "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock." Not that I ever really doubted him, but I understand now why he told me this. I find myself caring deeply for you only to know that you have found someone else. 

I am meant to be writing your best man speech on this paper, but I cannot bring myself to start. 

How does one write such a speech for the man he loves when that said man is about to marry another? 

I tried, though, even as I hoped you would find another man to stand up for you. A better man. A man who was not so in love with you that his heart breaks at the very thought of you not being here beside him anymore. 

With the impending day just weeks away, I find myself needing to both be as far from you as possible and also never to leave your side. 

I am a man being torn in two. I want you to be happy always, even if that is not with me. Though my heart breaks even just writing the words. 

With that realization, I am afraid I must refuse your offer to be your best man. For I can't stand there with a forced smile on my face and watch you give yourself to another. 

I believe I will ask Mycroft for a job somewhere far away until the time comes that I can be near you and not want to touch you or hold you. I must admit, though, that I do not hold out hope that such a time will ever come to pass.

I am truly sorry if I have disappointed or upset you. But I love you too strongly to fake it for even one day for you. 

I love you. 

Goodbye.

Always yours,

Sherlock


	2. No Choice

Dear John, 

I am a coward. I am a coward. I am a coward. 

What kind of person am I? 

A self-serving one, you would say if you were here. But you are not… 

I have instructed Mycroft to tell you that an urgent matter of national security has come up and I was called upon in service of the queen. 

Even writing this out sounds like a lie. I have no doubt you will see straight through this and be completely upset with me for leaving. 

I had no choice. 

That is not true. Of course I had a choice. But my choices were to stay and watch you be unbearably happy with her or to leave without saying anything to you. Either way I would lose you. 

So I choose the coward’s way out; to leave in the night without saying a word. If I had sent you my last letter maybe you would understand. But I have decided not to send any of these to you; I don't want to come off as desperate on top of everything else. I have no right to you, no claim to your heart. Which you freely gave to another while I was away. 

I wish that Mycroft had told me how happy you were before I returned. I would have chosen to stay gone instead. I could have saved myself from seeing you so happy with another. 

None of this is your fault. You never asked me to fall in love with you. You showed me nothing be friendship and kindness, and I in return let my foolish heart get carried away. 

Listen to me, I sound like a love-struck teenager. Pathetic. My only comfort is knowing you will never read any of these. 

I am somewhere in South America tonight, trying to solve the mystery of the barman. He lives alone with two dogs and somehow became stuck in this job he hates. I am trying to figure out why without asking him. Maybe this is what I will do. Find a pub and start slinging drinks at night. Maybe someone will come along and try to solve my mystery. 

The mystery of a broken hearted ex-detective. There. I have given it its name. I fear that I may have had one too many scotch on the rocks this evening. 

I miss you. Do you miss me? Do you even care that I am gone? Do you even notice? Or is your happiness too bright to see that I am no longer there?

I love you,

Always yours,

Sherlock 


	3. Hey Bartender,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear John, 

Three weeks until your day. The day you will marry her. Are you going out with Lestrade and Stamford before? Are they taking you out for one last night, a stag night? 

Did you know I made a plan for us? For your stag night. I planned for us to visit a pub on every street were we solved a murder. Looking back, that seems like a terrible idea. All to do with me and nothing to do with your new life. It was me trying so hard to hold on to what we used to be for just one night. 

On a different note, I have since spoken to the barkeep. Barkeep? Bartender? Anyway, his name is Steve. He is dull, but so is everyone here in this hole in the wall. I have moved from my regular table in the back corner to the end of the bar. Yes, I have a regular table here. I arrive every evening at half seven and Steve makes sure my table is ready. I have yet to understand why. He just nods and keeps my scotch coming. I like to sit here and watch the people while I write to you. It makes me feel a bit less alone. 

No one talks to me, I have made it clear that I will not engage in conversation. I know you think that I should be nicer, more human, but I'm not ready. I have as I said moved up to the end of the bar now. Saves Steve from walking my glass over. Maybe I am letting down my guard? Would that have made you happy?

It's been two weeks since I left. I wonder if you are still in our flat? It should be morning there, are you getting ready in your room upstairs or have you moved to the empty one I left. I have asked Mycroft to tell me nothing about you. He has so far honored that wish. 

I wonder if you will ask him details about me? I am sure whatever he tells you will not be the truth. The truth is I am wandering with no plan or goal in mind. I have rented a flat here for now. It's warm here. I miss the London weather. No need for my coat here. I left it with Mycroft for now. Too many memories. No more suits either. You wouldn't even be able to pick me out of a crowd, I think. 

Not that you would ever be looking for me here... 

I miss you and love you,

Always yours,

Sherlock 


	4. The Pain.

Dear John, 

Today I saw a man that I could have swore was you, walking ahead of me. I hurried to catch him, only to see I was mistaken. Damned if my heart didn't break all over again. It's not your fault, it was a fool's hope that you had somehow decided to find me. Only Mycroft has an idea where I am, but even he doesn't know for sure. I left my phone behind and call him on a payphone from a town over an hour away from here. I take a bus once a week to make the call. It's a big city, so he believes I am living there. 

I wonder if you would like my small town? There isn't much here. It is nothing like London, all hustle and bustle. Here it is quiet and calm. No one would think to look for me here. 

I have let my hair grow and my skin tan since arriving. I blend in with the locals now, I have decided to stay for the time being. Do you know what I wish? Most likely not. I wish that you and I had spent more time together before. After I came back there was no time for just us. You were busy with the life you had built while I was away and I was dealing with accepting that and healing. 

I never told you about what I went through those two years I was gone and I never plan to. You don't need to hear horrible details of the things I had to do so that you could get the life you wanted. No one needs to know what I went through so that you, Lestrade and Mrs H could continue living your lives normally. 

The pain, how I remember the pain. Sometimes I still wake and forget that I am no longer there. The nightmares are vivid and feel so real some nights. I promised Mycroft there would be no drugs and I have kept this promise. But I made no such promise about alcohol. It is sometimes the only thing that helps me fall asleep and not dream.

Even as I write this my back aches at the thought of the things I endured so you could get married in two weeks. I hope you know how lucky you are...

I am happy that you shall never read these. I wouldn't be able to stomach the pitiful looks you would give me if you knew any of what I write.

I want to hate you… But I can’t seem to..

Always yours,

Sherlock 


	5. Becoming a Bartender.

Dear John, 

I have decided to write you a letter each week. Not that you will very receive any of these, but maybe it will help me get over you. Just one week left until your wedding. Have you spared one thought about me in the last four weeks? Why do I keep wondering if you are thinking of me. This is something I will try to stop. 

I will tell you have started talking to Steve now. He is not as dull as I first thought. He is twenty-seven and from some town (I forget the name) in the southern part of North America. How he ended up here, I have yet to discover. I have asked him not to tell me yet. He asked me the same and I have declined an answer. I am not ready to talk about you. 

I have however expressed my desire to become a barkeep as well. I have since learned that making drinks is basic chemistry and we both know I excel at that. Steve thinks this is great fun and has started quizzing me on drinks. He laughs and shakes his head the way you used too. It seems he also likes my dry sense of humor. 

I miss our nights together after a case, shared takeaway out of the box on our sofa. Your laughter would fill my ears and make my heart dance. Do you laugh with her, like you did with me? 

I'm not supposed to care anymore, I am here to forget you... Why is that so hard? Why do you fill my thoughts each day? How am I ever going to do this?.....

I am thinking about driving down to the ocean this week. I have never just spent time, relaxing on a beach, feeling the sand under my feet. I remember that you planned to take her to a beach somewhere. Maybe going to the beach isn't such a great idea. 

I mentioned the beach to Steve after my fourth scotch and he may be going this week with friends, I have been invited to join. Could you see me sitting on a beach with a group of people, sharing a beer and enjoying the view? Me either. 

I think I will go. What else do I have to do here? I have nothing else to live for anymore... 

I love you,

Always yours,

Sherlock 


	6. The Beach.

Dear John, 

I went. I went to the beach with a group of people. You would not have believed it. I sat in the sand and watched the ocean waves roll in and out all afternoon. There was a sort of peace to it all.

The group was tolerable, but barely. Steve is becoming the closest thing to a friend I have here and I find myself scared to let it continue. I have only ever had one friend and look where that got me. 

Again, it isn’t your fault that you don’t love me back or know that I love you at all. It is my fault for never saying anything to you. I was afraid to lose you if you didn’t feel the same. I lost you anyway. 

Two days until the day. 

Are you all prepared? What does your suit look like? Are you standing in the mirror wearing it? Do you think of me? Do you miss me? 

I now work part-time behind the bar in my pub. Who would have thought… The patrons seem to like my sarcasm and deductions. It has become a game to see if I can guess details about them. 

I spoke with Mycroft yesterday. He tried to tell me something about you. I refused to listen and hung up on him. I don’t think I will call him next week. It was my one wish. I didn’t want to hear anything about how happy you are with me gone. 

How am I ever to get over you if he keeps bringing you up? It's been five weeks since I left London, since I left Sherlock Holmes behind. Since I left my heart…

I miss your quiet smiles. I miss you making me tea. Do you know I never drink tea here? I have given it up. Tea I can give up but still I cling to my thoughts of you. 

I wonder what it would have felt like to hold your hand. To touch your face just once with my bare hands. Not under some pretence of a case while I wear gloves. I wish just once I had been brave enough to remove them before touching you. 

I will never know what you feel like… 

I love you,

I wish you loved me,

Always yours,

Sherlock


	7. Wedding Day...

Dear John

It hasn’t been a week yet, but today is the day. The day you are getting married and I can’t sleep. I have been awake all night, staring out the window of my flat with only a bottle to keep me company. 

Does she make you happy? Does she give you that rush of adrenaline that you crave? Does she keep you out late, running the streets of London? Does she give you everything I never could? I tried… I would have given you the world. 

I noticed today that I am being followed. I almost missed it. I have become relaxed here, spending my days barely existing and my nights working alongside Steve at the pub. When I was out walking this morning, I noticed a man following closely. At first it was not obvious to me, but when he followed me down a side street that I used to cut in behind the market. I am not sure who or why he is following me but I believe I will ask tomorrow if he is there again. 

I wonder if Mycroft has finally sent someone to find me or keep tabs at least. I don't want to speak of Mycroft... Back to today. Have you removed all of your things from Baker Street now? Does it lie empty? I have often thought of returning in the last few weeks in the dead of night to see you one more time. To catch a glimmer of you through the windows. But that would defeat why I am here. I am here to forget you and it seems like I can't leave you behind. 

I just came back from my kitchen and I can see that man that has been following me, standing outside my flat. He is across the street, just watching my door. If he is waiting for me to leave today, he will be sorely disappointed. I have no plans to do anything but drink today. 

I don't want to think about her getting to walk down the aisle to meet you. You must look beautiful in your new suit, standing tall at the front with a smile upon your face. Holding her hand softly as you speak your vows of love to her....

I guess I am going out today. I have found my bottle wasn't near enough. 

I am sitting in my pub now. Where are you? Are you at the dinner now? Seated at the front of all of your friends and family? Is she next to you? 

My stalker has followed me. He thinks I can't see him through the haze that my eyes have become. I'm not sure anymore if it is the whiskey or the tears that have caused my eyes to cloud over. But I can still see him sitting at the other end of the bar... 

I wish you were here. Together we could confront him. Together we could do anything... 

But you are not... 

Yours, 

Sherlock 


	8. Don't want to feel.

John, 

I don't want to feel this pain anymore... 

I don't want to lie awake each night and wish you were beside me... 

I don't want to want you like I do. You are out living your best life while I am slowly losing mine. I want to be free of this crippling unrequited love that eats at my soul everyday. 

Why must I have to go through this? Why can't I let you go? 

Everything hurts. I hurt. 

I yelled at my stalker today. I yelled "just get it over with!" He did nothing. I still don't know what he wants.... 

Steve kissed me last night. He kissed me and I did nothing. I just looked at him and then walked away. I want to feel again, but there is nothing. It is all empty. I have stopped going to my pub. I have quit work. All I do is walk. I have given my landlord notice. I am leaving soon. I don't know where I am going to go yet. I haven't spoken to Mycroft in over three weeks. He doesn't need to know I am leaving. 

I think I will just start walking and see what happens. Maybe something will change on the road. I will find a reason to live or just cease to exist. I would welcome either. 

This is all I have right now. 

I miss you,

Sherlock 


	9. The Road.

John, 

I am on the road. It's quiet and I feel more alone than I ever have. I think I made a grave mistake. Why did I leave you? Why did I take this road? Maybe I should have stayed and told you that I loved you. 

Would you have listened? Why am I still writing you these letters and carry them with me after all this time... It's been almost three months since I left.. Do you know for the first weeks I thought you would show up. Part of me still thinks you will somehow find me. Though I'm not even sure where I am right now. 

I am sitting on the edge of a cliff looking out over the landscape and I think about stepping off. Feeling the wind rush past me as the ground below draws close. I wish you were here with me to enjoy the view... I wonder what you are doing right now? Are you on your honeymoon? Are you lying on a beach with her in your arms? 

I wonder what that must feel like,to be wrapped in the arms of someone you love who loves you back. I will never know this feeling. I will never care for someone like I care for you. There is no room in my heart for anyone else to have a place. As I sit here, I think about deleting everything about you from my mind. Would it make things easier? Could I then have a will to live? 

I am not sure if I could fully remove you, but as the days continue to pass I believe more and more that I should try. 

Do you miss me? Do you sometimes stand outside Baker Street, looking up at the windows and think that you catch a glimpse of me? This is why I couldn’t stay in London. I could never spend one day there and not see you everywhere. I have a hard enough time with that here, and we have never been to South America. I think you would like it though. 

I miss you so badly tonight it seems to hurt more than normal. 

When will the pain stop?

Your Sherlock


	10. The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading, commenting and loving this story! I hope you all join me for part two! It will not be done through letters but instead follow John's journey.   
> I want to thank my amazing beta Lyri for all her help with this story and cheer-leading through the tears of my angst.   
> Thanks to everyone and hope you enjoy these last two letters. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John, 

Dark are the nights on the road. I can see the stars in all their beauty but it holds no joy for me. I miss the blue of your eyes and how they seemed to dance with stars in them. I think I am going to make a little nest on this hillside and stay here forever. Maybe I will stop at the next town and mail all of these to you. 

What would you do if one day in the middle of your happiness all of these just showed up at your door? Would you read them? Or just throw them away? Would you see me laying my heart out to you and laugh over it with her one evening? 

It's getting colder now. I don't feel like moving. I wonder if Mycroft has begun to search for me yet? I would be surprised if he found me out here. His guess is as good as mine for where I am right now. 

I love you, John. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. You were my one. 

I hope you are happy in your life. I hope you have everything you have ever wanted. 

I wish it had been with me... 

This is my last letter. I have decided to mail all of these to Steve and see if he will send them or keep them or burn them. I haven't decided what I want him to do yet... 

I love you my conductor of light. 

I will love you until there is no longer breath in my body. 

Love,

Your Sherlock

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John dropped the letter from his hand, it landed softly at his feet.

"When did these arrive?" he quietly asked, his voice shaking. 

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Two days ago. I knew you would be returning soon." 

"Why didn't you tell me they were here?" John stood, angrily pacing the floor, his hands in his hair. "All this time, all this wasted time. Damn! I have to go there. I have to find him!" 

"I assumed as much. There is a flight leaving in three hours from Heathrow for which you have a ticket." 

Mycroft stood, brushing the front of his jacket. "Bring him home, John." 

"I will. Finally a good lead, it's been months." John covered his eyes as the tears started to fall. Mycroft didn't need to see him cry yet again. 

**The end of part one.**


End file.
